Selfish
by Lou2U
Summary: Everyone thought you were the selfish one. You called your sister a freak, a weirdo. But you made her cry, which is the kiss of death when it comes to your sister. No-one can stand to see her cry, let alone cause it.


**Disclaimer: I do not have blonde hair. I believe this rules me out to be J.K Rowling, does it not? However, I do have brown hair, which means nothing except the fact that I don't own any of the characters except Luke. He's mine and he will not appreciate being used for other authors purposes. With all that being said and done...**

Everyone thought you were the selfish one. You called your sister a freak, a weirdo. But you made her cry, which is the kiss of death when it comes to your sister. No-one can stand to see her cry, let alone cause it.

You couldn't stand it.

She wrote to you twice, once at the start of her first year and once at the end of her seventh. You can remember a few lines of the first letter, although you only read it once before crumpling it up and throwing it in the bin.

"_Me and Sev love to explore...it's so _big_, Tuney! There are portraits that move and ghosts that talk to you! There's even a poltergeist, but that's not really a good thing because he throws stuff at you and sings about you..._

_I'm in Gryffindor, Tuney, it's one of the four houses...Sev's in Slytherin, but we work together when we can and we see each other every day... _

_I really miss you, Tuney. Will you write back? It's not long before I'll be back for Christmas!_

_Love you, _

_Lily xxxx_

You were angry, you were hurt. She was obviously having the best time of her life without you, with _him_.

The one who'd started it all.

But when your parents came in, beaming from the latest news from their pretty, special daughter, and they saw her letter, their faces crumpled like it was their hearts you'd thrown away. So, when they'd gone, you took the letter and hid it at the back of your desk, where all your secrets went.

So you were the selfish one. Viewed by everyone as uncaring, unfeeling or in the words of your cousin Luke (Lily's cousin, really, because you are your mother's daughter, and not enough like your father with his eyes and his genes to be included in conversations and the word 'family') – "Jealous and pathetic."

Jealous and pathetic. Two words you will always deny. Two words written and placed behind your desk. It's a secret you've kept from friends; not the emotions, but your sister, your pretty, special sister.

When she came back for Christmas, she was happy and excitable, sad and angry. You wouldn't talk to her. You wouldn't look at her like she was your sister. She had morphed from Lily, little sister with a smile to Lily Evans, witch.

Freak.

You felt glad when she left. You'd had enough of _magic_ and _spells _and _Potions_ and _Sev_. You'd had enough of whispers and cold stares when you entered a room with Luke or That Boy inside. Luke because you're not enough of an Evans to be interesting, because you made your little sister, his cousin cry and Snape because you're normal. Ordinary.

Muggle.

~"~

Your second letter arrived at one of the happiest times of your life. After school, a course. After the course, a job. At your job, you meet the man of your dreams: Vernon Dursley.

Overweight, yes. Opinionated, yes.

Ordinary, yes.

You feel something else with him. He is secure in every way you need and he is not spontaneous in the slightest.

You love him.

He doesn't know about Lily. He knows you have a sister away at boarding school. Your parents proudly showed him a photo when he talked about his own sister, Marge.

You were furious. He didn't need to know anything about your little sister except the fact that she exists.

He doesn't need to know she's a freak.

_Dear Petunia,_

_This letter will be short, because I'm busy revising for exams, but I thought I'd write anyway.__ Luke__ Mum wrote to me and told me about Vernon and I'm happy for you. Honestly, I am. He sounds like he makes you happy, which is good._

_I've got a boyfriend too – James Potter. You might know him from when I used to complain about him, but he's really matured and I couldn't ask for anyone better. He makes me happy, and he makes me laugh – I hope Vernon is the same._

_I miss talking to you _

_I wish I could_

_I'll see you soon, Petunia. __and maybe I could meet Vernon too? _

_Love, Lily x_

You put it behind your desk, but it doesn't go away.

_Petunia. _You haven't been called Petunia by your little sister for years.

It burns inside you, so hot tears spring and streak down your face, fast, fast. It's like it's happening all over again, your rejection of her coming back to haunt you.

James Potter.

It's no longer That Boy. You don't know what happened with him, except it was bad, so bad your little sister cried and cried. Luke knew what it was; Luke knew how to comfort her and how to make her smile, laugh, dance, until she forgot.

Luke never did that for you.

~"~

You're standing outside your grandmother's house, where Luke lives. You're shivering, both from the letter and from the cold. You won't admit it, but you're nervous. You can't remember the last time you had a proper conversation with your cousin.

You can't remember the last time you had a proper conversation with your sister.

The door is pulled open and you see emotions pass through your cousin's face – surprise, confusion, a hint of anger – before it's gone and his face is carefully blank.

"Petunia. Nice to see you." He is polite to you, but he doesn't smile. His eyes flicker up and down, narrowing slightly as he meets your gaze. Neither of your eyes is like your sister. Hers are emerald and Luke's are grey and yours are a pale mix of blue and green.

"I need to talk to you."

"Okay." He moves away from the door and you step in to the smell of your grandmother's perfume and leftover curry.

You sit rigid on the sofa whilst he crosses his legs and leans against the cushions.

"What's up then?"

His expression hasn't changed. He is studying you, judging your mood with no expression. He isn't like this with everyone. Not with his brother, not with your sister. Just with you.

"I got a letter today. From Lily."

No response.

"You told her."

He stares at you. Then his eyes flash with understanding and he raises an eyebrow at you.

You flush and snap: "You had no right! She's my sister and I'll tell her about Vernon when I want to!"

He glares at you, right _at_ you. "I had _no right_ to tell her? Are you being serious? When was the last time you told her _anything_? When was the last time you treated your sister like a human being and recognised she has feelings, like everyone else?" His anger is somehow bigger than yours, more alive than yours, and in that moment you hate him, hate him, _hate him_.

And seeing this on your face, he laughs at you, at your anger, _your feelings_. You jump up, reaching for his face or his arms or _anything_ to hurt him like his words and your sister's words are hurting you.

He stands too, and faces you, looking right into your eyes. Luke is not even a year older than you, but the fury on his face stops him from being your cousin and turns him into the boiling in your blood, his blood - something you do have in common after all. You know in that moment, he feels exactly the same way about you.

"Grow up, Petunia. You can't throw people away and still expect them to come running to you when you want them. Grow up!"

"I didn't throw her away! She didn't want me, she left! And then I had to be nice to her and care about her when she never cared about me!" Your chest is heaving and you're shaking from rage. Rage, and the cost of the confession of your emotions towards your sister.

"She cared about you! Don't you dare say she wanted to leave you! She cried when she left. She cried before she left too; only you were too selfish to see it. She didn't want to leave you! She didn't want to leave any of us!"

Your face jerks. That word again.

Selfish.

"I'm not selfish!" You shriek. "I'm not!"

"Why don't you write to her then? Why don't you talk to her? Go on Petunia, tell me. I'm all ears for you – like you weren't for her!"

Your hand comes up to slap him hard, but he shoves it away and hisses:

"You're selfish. Selfish, selfish, _selfish_!"

You turn and run, out of the room with Luke and with his taunts, out of the house, slamming the door and into the street, where the pouring rain has left everywhere empty and deserted.

~"~

The weeks pass until it's May, and nearly your birthday. You haven't forgotten your argument with Luke, but you haven't seen him since, so you try to stop worrying about him.

But you can't.

Selfish, selfish, _selfish _is the soundtrack of your dreams, along with_ Petunia_ and _"Freak!" _and wide green eyes.

Vernon knows there is something bothering you, and he does his best to take your mind of it. He talks about your birthday and his family and his new job at Grunnings. Slowly, you come back to life again, happy with your life and your job and Vernon, Vernon.

Three days before your birthday, he takes you to his mother's. He leads you into the sitting room where his parents and his sister are sat, looking at you. You are very glad your hair is light and bouncing on your shoulders, and your clothes are neat. All of the Dursleys like things to be just so, and you are pleased they are smiling at you, like you are a part of their family.

"Petunia." At the sound of Vernon's voice, you look at him. Your name never sounds long or old when he says it. It's just _Petunia_.

Vernon clears his throat and starts again. "Petunia." He takes your hand and you squeeze it, feeling his palms against yours. They're sweaty and this prompts you to ask, "Yes?"

Suddenly, he kneels on the ground. You're just about to ask him what he's doing when he shifts onto one knee and somewhat awkwardly pulls a ring from his pocket.

You gasp, your hand flying to your mouth as everything becomes clear – his nervous demeanour and the way his parents are smiling at you.

Your eyes fill with tears as he says, very formally, "Petunia Evans, you are the love of my life and...and I would like to ask you...if you will marry me?"

The ring in his fingers is small, and the equally small stones are winking in the sunlight, shining every colour of the rainbow, making patterns dance on the ceiling.

"Oh, Vernon! Of course I will! Yes, yes!" You're laughing and crying as he gets up and carefully pushes the ring onto your finger. You hug him tightly, and then his family join in, welcoming you to the family and to the rest of your life.

~"~

Of course, it doesn't last.

You took Vernon home to tell your parents. They were thrilled, ecstatic to see their eldest daughter so vibrant with love. Your parents laughed with you, congratulated you, and even toasted to the happy couple. The thing that ruins it is when your mother innocently says, "You'll have to write to your sister, Petunia. Lily will be so pleased for you!"

The smile slid off your face, but only Vernon noticed. He was grinning, almost drunk on his success and the praise from his future in laws. He comes over to you and says loudly, "Petunia? Aren't you happy?"

You fix a smile on your face.

"I'm so happy, Vernon. So happy."

~"~

It doesn't go away. You're scared of so much. You're scared that something will ruin your engagement with Vernon. You're worried that something will be your sister. You're kept awake by endless possibilities of Vernon discovering the truth about your sister, finding out about her freakish abilities and wanting nothing more to do with you as a result. You panic, imagining the look on the Dursleys face; the disgust and embarrassment mingled with hatred.

Your sister will come home in less than a month. She's done all of her exams and she will be home, with her boyfriend in tow. You hate her. You hate her for causing so many problems in your life and you hate her for Luke, and you hate her for bringing more jealousy into your life.

It all comes to a head two weeks later. It's raining, the type that makes sure you're soaked through your flesh before stopping. You're sat in Vernon's car, in front of a chip shop. Vernon is nosily chomping his chips, whilst you poke at your sausage. The panic that seems to overwhelm you these days likes to make an appearance when you're with him, tempting you with happiness before paralysing you with guilt.

"Vernon?" It's your voice, but you don't remember deciding to speak, deciding to tell him.

"Hmmm?" He's started on his battered sausage now.

"I need to tell you something." Your voice is steady, strong.

He looks over at you, his lips greasy.

"It's important, okay? But...it's a secret. You can't tell anyone. Promise?"

"Okay."

You flinch slightly, thinking of Luke. Vernon notices and takes your hand.

"Petunia, I promise."

You close your eyes briefly, before opening them to look at him. Your heartbeat is infiltrating your mind at every point possible.

"It-it's about Lily. My sister."

He is silent, encouraging you to go on.

"She...she's different. Not different. She-she's not like us. That's why she goes to boarding school, away from here. It's a special school, for...for people like her." You still haven't said the word; you don't know how it will form on your lips, you don't know what taste it will leave in your mouth after you say it.

His misunderstands you. Of course he does – how is he supposed to guess your sister, _your sister_, is a...a freak?

"You mean...you mean there's something _wrong _with her?" His voice is hushed and he looks around as if there are people sitting in the back seats or pressing their ears against the windows.

"No! No, nothing like that. It's just...she's a-a witch, Vernon."

He stares at you, shocked. You know you have ruined him, you have ruined your relationship and you know this because you have rocked the foundations of _Vernon Dursley_ with this statement.

The Dursleys like things to be just so, but you have proved yourself to be the anomaly.

No. Your sister has. Why are you blaming yourself for her?

But you are.

"I'm sorry, Vernon, I am! It's not my fault and I hate her so much; I don't want anything to do with her! I haven't spoken to her in years, honestly! She's just a freak and I..." You can't continue. Tears are choking your throat and your vision.

Suddenly, Vernon comes back to life. "You-you aren't...?"

You can only shake your head.

He inhales deeply. His food must be cold by now, but he shows no interest in finishing it.

Then he exhales. He looks at you right in the eyes, and he is seeing you, all of you.

Then he squeezes your hands.

"Petunia..."

Your heart flips over.

"You're not to blame. It's your sister, isn't it? Not you. You haven't done anything wrong. It's just her who's..."

"A freak." You finish for him. "She's just a freak, honestly."

Vernon nods. "A freak." He repeats.

You sit there in silence for a full minute and just as you're being to wonder if he's trying to find a way to take all of his words back, he kisses you tenderly. You relax into his solid body and wonder if you will always feel this reassured by his presence.

When he pulls away from you, he says, "I love you, Petunia."

"I love you too, Vernon. So much. Thank you for believing me...and for not leaving me."

He shakes his head. "Never, Petunia. Not because of...of a freak."

As you drive away, away from your problems, you know you will never forget this day.

Your pretty, special sister is a freak.

And you will always remember the bitter, sour tang as the word witch left your tongue.

~"~

You can't believe you're doing this. You're sat next to Vernon, staring at the door.

They're five minutes late.

Beside you, Vernon is tutting loudly.

"No manners at all."

"No," You say absently. "Do you think they want us to order for them?"

"Well, we're certainly going not going to. We'll order our food and they'll have to order when they finally arrive. They can't have a good car, that's for sure."

You frown slightly. "I don't think they have a car."

"They don't even have a car? He must have no money if he doesn't have a car. Wastes it all on drink, I imagine. They aren't getting a lift from us either, if that's what they're hoping..."

You let Vernon carry on, only half listening as you scan the people coming in for a horribly familiar face, but you can't see her.

It's twenty minutes after the agreed time when they finally show up. You don't see them at first; you're checking your watch for the seventh time that minute when you hear her laugh. Your head snaps up as Vernon follows your gaze to where a young couple are making their way to the table.

"Sorry we're late! We had to go back because we couldn't remember if we'd locked the door..." Your sister's voice trails off as she takes in the stony faces in front of her. "Hello! Vernon, isn't it? It's great to finally meet you! I'm Lily and this-" she breaks off to indicate the tall man next to her with glasses and the worst hair you've ever seen "-is James."

James smiles at them. "Hi, Petunia, Vernon."

You can barely drag up a half smile and Vernon doesn't even bother. Your sister bites her lip before sitting down opposite you. James sits next to her. It's obvious Vernon isn't impressed with his appearance, and neither are you. As the waiter comes to take Lily and James' orders, you murmur to Vernon, "He could at least have brushed his hair. It looks _awful_!"

Vernon nods and is about to offer his verdict when the waiter moves away and Lily turns back to face you.

"So...you're engaged!" She is trying too hard; smiling too brightly.

"Congratulations!" James interjects. He grabs Lily's hand and starts playing with her fingers. Vernon royally inclines his head and you manage a frosty, "Thank you."

Lily nods awkwardly and there is silence until the food arrives.

The evening goes downhill from there.

Vernon starts a conversation about cars with James, who doesn't seem to fully understand.

You say, "Lily," and she looks at you with those eyes that were such a big part of your childhood.

You push away the nostalgia and continue. "We've been making wedding plans, and we've decided on where we want the reception and...Well, everything. I just wanted to tell you that you're invited. If you can make it."

Your sister's eyes shine and she beams, halting the conversation between Vernon and James as they notice and the latter leans over to kiss her cheek.

"I don't understand why..." Vernon says in an aggravated tone to James, who shrugs and says something about brooms. Lily stifles a laugh and Vernon turns red, a vein in his forehead starting to throb.

You feel a surge of spite and add, "You're not a bridesmaid. You're just a guest. I'm having Vernon's sister and some friends as my bridesmaids." Lily flinches and looks away, hurt. You feel glad. Now she feels how you did almost seven years ago - now she knows what it's like to be rejected.

"I'm going to wear a white dress – long, like our mother's. It's going to have some lace on it too, with small pearls – fake, of course, but it'll look real." _Just like our relationship_, you want to add, but you refrain from it. You can tell your sister is interested and that despite everything, she wants all the details. So when you lean forward, she mirrors you, smiling again like you're about to tell her you were joking earlier.

You smile your sweetest, almost sickly smile and say softly so no-one will overhear, not even Vernon and James, whose conversation seems to be getting too heated for the people sitting around you to be comfortable, "And don't you dare do anything to ruin it, _freak_!"

Lily claps a hand over her mouth to stop a sob, but the damage is done. Vernon gets up, the vein clearly standing out, his face purple, and snaps, "Petunia, we're leaving!"

"Certainly."

You rise elegantly, not looking back as the door closes behind you. You don't need to. You know the tears will be in full force by now.

~"~

Luckily, your wedding goes without a hitch. Everyone comes up to you after the ceremony and tells you how beautiful you looked, how you glowed and how you walked as though you were weightless. No-one mentions your sister, or her boyfriend, although you knew they were there. No. It's fiancée now.

The Freak and her Fiancée.

Your honeymoon is perfect too. It's like you're dancing on the clouds, the sun shining down on you and Vernon, blessing you with love and happiness forever.

You don't think about your sister. You know she got married; she sent you an invitation, but you declined. You burnt the two letters she sent you on Halloween and feel released from her and your envy, your bitterness.

You still never want to see her again. In fact, you pretend you don't have a sister, because it's easier than suffering all over again. You become a role model in your neighbourhood. You have a perfect home, a spotless home. In essence you are the perfect woman, the perfect wife and the perfect mother.

Mother.

It's a feeling you can never explain. Just to hold your beautiful child in your arms, to see his blue eyes open and look at you...

You can never imagine him hurt or injured. You don't want him to cry, you want to give him everything.

And so you do.

Why not? You have the money, and the look on your son's face is worth more than any price tag. He will never have to be jealous of anyone, because you are happy with one child, Vernon is happy with one child, and Dudley will never wonder what it would be like to have more time with his parents. He will never have to experience feeling second best, like you did.

Never, never, never.

~"~

You're smiling as you go downstairs. Dudley slept through the night well, like he should be doing – he is over a year old now. You don't want him to wake up in the night without you being there to comfort him, so you still check on him at least twice. Vernon is trying to persuade you out of this habit, but he can see it makes you happy so he hasn't been trying hard.

You unlock the front door and pull it open to get the milk.

And then you scream.

On your doorstep is a baby.

_A baby._

You scream again, the baby wails sleepily, and Vernon comes running down the stairs.

"Petunia? What's the-" And then he sees. His face turns red. "Petunia? Look, try not to worry. Some harlot's obviously just given birth and thinks it's okay to leave the baby on our doorstep. We'll just call the police and-"

You cut him off. "No, Vernon. No."

He looks confused. "No? But Petunia, dear..."

"No!"

No, no, no, no.

The baby is awake now. It's crying, unable to free its arms or legs. From upstairs, Dudley is beginning to whimper, disturbed by your scream and another baby's fussing.

The baby's eyes are open. In that moment, you understand everything.

A year and three months ago, you got sent a letter, announcing the birth of your nephew. You read it once before throwing it in the bin and hugging Dudley close, knowing he would never feel as usurped as you did in that moment.

You married at nineteen. Your sister married at eighteen.

You were pregnant at twenty and gave birth at twenty one. Your sister, your pretty, special sister, was pregnant at nineteen and gave birth at twenty.

You could never have all the glory to yourself, the freak always had to steal it from you and push you back into the wings. You were the eldest, the blonde, angelic one and your sister could never compete with that. So what did she do? She turned into a witch and ran away with your heart and your love. She left you with bitterness you have adapted to hide, but not before your parents.

Your parents were heartbroken their daughters didn't speak to each other, they tried to persuade you to let Lily be a bridesmaid and they tried to persuade you to attend hers. On both counts, you refused.

When her son was born, you wouldn't take Dudley to your parents when she brought her baby there. You cut off all contact.

They tried to convince you. You backed away, and the next day, they were dead.

It was a car crash.

It was not a car crash.

Your sister – as she told you at their funeral – wasn't supposed to visit them. She was supposed to be in hiding, but she "had to make sure they were safe". It was the war, she said. There was a war and she was a target, her and her family.

"Not you, though. They don't know about you, Petunia, don't worry."

Your parents didn't know their car had been tampered with when they went out.

Your sister told you this, and then she left. You made her. You wouldn't let her put yourself, Vernon and Dudley become targets just because she was talking to you. You left with the knowledge that your parents' death hadn't been a crash and she took away all the guilt of causing it.

Your sister couldn't stand that though. She had to have the last word; she took the guilt and then forced her child on you when she died.

Good.

If she hadn't been a freak, you wouldn't have her baby on your doorstep instead of the milk.

"Petunia!" Vernon's panicked voice pulls you away from your reverie and you shake your head slightly, looking at him.

He's picked the baby up awkwardly, not knowing whether to hold it close or put it back down again. It snuffles, but it is calming down, you can see.

The neighbours are looking at you; some coming out the door, towards you. Vernon pushes the baby at you, going to meet the lady at Number Seven, and you hurry into the house, setting the baby on the kitchen table before rushing to calm Dudley's screeches.

~"~

Two hours later, you sit on the sofa. The baby – Harry, his name is – is sleeping on your bed. You don't have another cot. You don't have another anything. Vernon took the day of work, the first since Dudley was born, and takes your son to the park to calm him down. You neglected your son to deal with hers, and you feel guilty, ashamed.

Your sister died for her son. You say you would die for Dudley, but your sister actually _did_. You can't imagine it. You won't imagine it.

You don't know what to do with the baby. You can't cope with two. But the letter told you that you had to keep him.

_Petunia Evans Dursley_

_I regret to inform you that your sister, Lily Evans Potter, and her husband, James Potter have died. There is no other family but you to look after their baby, Harry James Potter._

That was the formal part of the letter. _Your sister, Lily Evans Potter... _

Your sister.

Your heart is breaking. Memories of _"Tuney, wait!" _and giggling and flowers with petals that opened, her flying off the swing paint the walls and you think you can smell her perfume, the one you bought her for her eleventh birthday. She always wore it afterwards, buying more when she ran out.

And then the rest:

_Petunia, your sister and her husband were incredibly brave. They fought to save the lives of so many, knowing the risks that this entailed. _

_Lily and James were killed by a wizard who called himself Lord Voldemort. They were fighting against him and his supporters. To protect themselves, they went into hiding, only telling one person where they were. _

_They were betrayed._

_I now ask you to look after their son. I hope you will be able to treat him as one of your own, and love him like a second son. Lily gave her life so he could survive. This is old magic, and the reason he needs to live with you is because you share the blood of which Harry is protected by. There would be no shortage of wizarding households wanting to take him in, but he will only be safe with you._

_Voldemort has gone – whether dead or alive, we cannot be sure. But there are plenty of his supporters who still pose threats to your nephew's safety. I hope you will explain all of this to him when he is old enough to understand and I hope you will tell Harry about his parents and how they died to give him, and so many others, a safe world to live in._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Albus Dumbledore _

The room is a mess. Dudley's toys are strewn everywhere and the carpet needs vacuuming. You get up and straighten the cushions. Then, you make your way through the house, cleaning and tidying, giving your mind something to focus on.

Your head feels clearer when you finish – your sense of purpose has been restored and the house looks neat, normal.

Nothing has happened.

That's a lie.

Something has happened. Your estranged sister has passed away, but you haven't been close for years.

Your brother in law has died too, but you only met him twice.

It was a car crash. They were drinking and they crashed, killing themselves and giving their baby as scar which will last forever.

At least, that's what you tell the neighbours when they visit to soak up any gossip they can.

That's what you told Vernon when he came back with a pink-cheeked Dudley.

He agreed with you, and he played the part well.

That's what you will tell Dudley, and Harry too. You'll keep him.

You'll keep him for Lily. Not for the freak she became.

But he won't become a freak.

It's another thing you and Vernon decided. You wouldn't let him become magical; you'd force him to repress it.

You'll recognise the signs.

And you'll punish him for it. Harshly.

~"~

You're seen as virtuous by your neighbours. You're seen as brave, patient, a wonder woman.

You're not even twenty- three and you're taking on two babies, and you manage to keep your house immaculate.

You hear the whispers when you walk around the streets, struggling with two children and a double pushchair in your arms. You pretend to be engrossed with them so you don't smile or blush proudly.

It's not as hard as it seems.

When Dudley goes to bed in his cot, Harry goes to bed on a sheet, in a big cardboard box that the washing machine came in, in the small space under the stairs. As you shut the door, shutting him away from you and your otherwise perfect lifestyle, you can't stop the repetitive drum, beating through you with your blood:

Selfish, selfish, _selfish_.

~"~

Author's note: I am insanely proud of this - 14 pages long on a word document!

Anyway, that was my interpretation of Petunia. Just to clarify: I don't believe she only married Vernon because she was jealous of Lily and James' relationship and I don't believe that Petunia was just a bitter woman with no enjoyment in her life. That being said, I don't believe that the way she acted towards Harry as a result of her feelings was acceptable.

I know that Luke comes across as harsh and intolerant to Petunia, but I absolutely adore him like he's my older brother, and he is a lot nicer to Lily (in my head, anyway). I don't know what happens to him when Lily dies. I planned for him to be killed by one of Voldemort's supporters in retaliation, but then I got attached, so...

A thank you to CoffeeAndCake who let me email her repeatedly with versions of this story for her to read, like she's had to do for years now...

And to LunaNotLoony who asked for another marauders fic - I know this isn't exactly what you wanted, but I swear I'm working on another one ;)

**Edit - **Thank you to Noleme for pointing out a mistake with Harry's birth announcement - now it's 'A year and three months ago' instead of 'Three months ago' :)

Please review favourite or anything other than flame - I love you all for it, and I will make sure to send you viral muffins and rainbows!


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